1985, A Continuation
by TheAceAngel
Summary: So, this was an alternate ending I wrote for my English class. I realized that it's pretty much a fanfiction, so I decided to post it up here for all of you to see. I'm open to suggestions, so tell me what you think!


Syme awoke in an unfamiliar room. He had faint memories of a man dressed in black aiming an odd-looking gun at his face. The world went bright, as though a thousand suns were flashing before his eyes. Then everything had gone dark. Syme had been vaporized. Or so the Party had thought.

He knew he shouldn't be alive right now. Once you were vaporized, you ceased to exist. Syme wasn't religious, so he couldn't possibly be in the "Heaven" they spoke of in the past. Syme could feel the strange floor beneath him, and he certainly couldn't pass through the walls of this strange room. He was definitely not one of the ghosts that the idiotic proles and the people of the past feared. If he listened closely, he could hear a faint pounding noise that could only be the beating of his heart. A heart that should no longer exist. Syme was alive. It was impossible. He should be dead. But he wasn't. He was alive. Against all of the expectations of the Party, he was alive!

Emmanuel Goldstein was thinking of the stranger who had one day suddenly appeared in his underground bunker. The stranger laid on the floor day and night, unmoving apart from the faint rise and fall of his chest, indicating that he was alive. This was in no way a strange occurrence in the lair of Big Brother's worst enemy.

A change was sweeping across Oceana, and the Party had no idea what was going on. They were unaware of the bunker lying directly under their biggest city, under London itself. Soon after the Party had begun vaporizing people, the scientists that had been with the Brotherhood from the very beginning discovered a flaw in the Party's infamous vaporizing guns. The Party believed that the guns completely wiped a body off of the face of the Earth, leaving no trace of the unperson behind. That was what was supposed to happen.

Instead, the Party had unwittingly created its own downfall. Of course, the guns had destroyed the original bodies of the people they had unpersoned. But they also reproduced the body in another place: the bunker of Emmanuel Goldstein. Without meaning to do so, the Party had created the thing that people of the past had only dreamed of. They had created a teleportation device. They just didn't know what they had done.

Winston knew that one day, he would be shot. The thought was always with him, though he never acknowledged it. It was just there, like a cyst that just wouldn't go away. Soon enough, he would finally pay for the terrible crime he had committed. He still couldn't believe that he had done something so appalling. It was a good thing that they were going to shoot him; he knew didn't deserve to live after going against the very man who had done such wonderful things for Oceana. He loved Big Brother now, but it was far too late. He would still die.

Julia remembered the monstrous things she had done before she had become the model comrade she now was. She remembered the feeling of his skin on her own and the other sensations elsewhere in her body. She knew what she had done. Sexcrime, they had called it. But she was a new woman. She couldn't even think of doing something so scandalous, unless, of course, it was to produce children for the Party.

She had repented for what she had done, but she knew nothing would be enough. She would still be shot. In the end, all of her work wouldn't even matter. She just hoped that it would come soon; she had lost the desire to live long before, in that terrifying room where they had brought her biggest fear to life. She patiently awaited her death.

O'Brien sat alone in his luxurious room. He didn't deserve it. Nothing he did could ever make up for the crime he had committed so long ago. He was extremely grateful that they had captured him long ago. Now, he could continue his work to rid the world of the blasphemous followers of that bastard, Goldstein.

He glanced at the telescreen in his room. Unlike the telescreens that the members of the Outer Party had, his could show him what anyone at any given time was doing. Reward for being such a loyal Party member, they told him. This was his life now. On the telescreen, a familiar face appeared. Bald, permanently flushed pink, with a perfect set of false teeth. 6079 Smith, W. His special project for the last seven years, now the perfect brainwashed citizen that was prized here in Oceana. Then another face flashed upon the screen. That woman, no longer the beautiful and graceful woman she had once been. The two of them now more perfect than he ever could have hoped for. Too bad that they would cease to exist very soon.

The man sat alone in the dark room. Around him were dozens of screens, so many so that not a single inch of wall space was empty. He was watching, always watching. He saw everything, everyone, in the perfect land he had created. He would never be overthrown, and thanks to his scientists, he would never die. A bone-chilling sound came from him. He was laughing.

* * *

Presently, Syme was awake and contemplating the reason for this new life that had been given to him. People walked past the room at all hours, occasionally leaving food near the door for him. He knew he could walk out of this room whenever he pleased, but he had no desire to do anything much, apart from laying here on this cool floor and thinking.

He heard the door open and turned his head to see who it was. It was a man. A lean Jewish face, white hair going in all directions upon his head, and a small goatee. A man who couldn't possibly exist. Syme knew that they had only created this man to capture rebels within Oceana. Not a real man, just an idea, like Big Brother. He wondered if this was another of his torturer's cruel tricks, but then he remembered the light and the darkness.

Goldstein. He was real. And he was speaking to Syme.

Emmanuel Goldstein had no time for taking care of the man who had appeared in his bunker several days ago. Something had to be done about him, and Goldstein was the only one who could do anything. So, early one morning, he opened the door to the man's room to find him in the same position he had been in the day he had arrived; lying flat on the floor. But now, his eyes were watching as Goldstein approached him.

"He's not real, he can't possibly be real, I'm still in the Ministry of Love," the man mumbled quietly to himself, avoiding looking into Goldstein's eyes.

"I'm as real as the ground beneath you. Now get up and follow me, it's about time we put you to work." He turned and walked away without a single glance behind him. There was no need, as he soon heard another set of footsteps following his own. They walked along silently; Goldstein had more important things to do than comforting new arrivals. Before long, they had come to a large room bustling with activity. He exchanged a few words with one of the men working in the room and left to continue his work.

Emmanuel Goldstein was a busy man. It took a lot of work to overthrow a government, nonetheless the Party.

Winston began the day the way he did every day: with a bottle of vile Victory Gin shortly after twelve hundred hours. The day was aglow with the sight of new life; Spring had arrived in Oceana once again. Winston felt better than he had in a long time. He could almost forget the crimes he had committed altogether. Almost.

Winston set out for work in this newfound mood. Maybe today he could do something that would actually help the writes of the new dictionary, instead of just arguing with his fellows.

He never saw it coming. A bright flash in the corridor he had been walking through, and then nothing. Winston felt as though every molecule in his being was being torn apart, and in fact, it was. Then, the blessed darkness overtook him.

Julia awoke to find and arm curled around her waist. She was so shocked that she didn't react for a full minute. Finally, she startled completely awake, shoving the arm off of herself. She couldn't be caught like this. The memories of Room 101 came flooding back, and she knew she couldn't possibly go through it again. "This isn't happening. I'm a loyal citizen. I have not committed a sexcrime. I'm only dreaming, and when I wake, I'll find myself alone in my own bed," she murmured quickly under her breath. She got up and took a long look at the room around her, and an even longer look at the person to whom the arm belonged to.

When she recognized the bald head and rather large belly, she leapt up from the floor and tried to get out of the room. It couldn't be happening. It wasn't possible. But here he was, back from her worst nightmares. Winston Smith. Her former lover, now her worst enemy. She tried to see him as just that, the enemy, but it was still hard to do. She had betrayed him, and he'd done the same to her, but she couldn't stop the feelings from rising up inside of her. She still loved him, even now. Even after all of the things that had happened in Room 101. Julia knew she'd be killed for such thoughts, but she couldn't stop them. She just hoped that they would ignore the two of them for just a little longer.

Julia knelt by Winston's side and gently shook him awake. "Wake up, my love, we are together again." Slowly, he began showing signs of being awake, but his eyes were still closed. At last, he opened his eyes, not quite believing what he saw before him. She had been expecting surprise, but the look in his eyes was far more than surprise. She knew the truth from that one look. The man she had known was gone, and he would never love her again. She wasn't even certain that he had ever loved her.

Those were the thoughts running through her head when the door to the room opened and the man entered.

Though O'Brien greatly regretted it, he knew what had to be done. Anyone that entered the Ministry of Love would have to be shot soon after their release. It was his job, and he was willing to do far worse in the name of Big Brother. He had worked hard to reform these two, and now they were truly perfect. But rules were rules, and O'Brien wasn't one to break them.

He took a deep breath and summoned Martin to him. "Dispatch two men to get them today. It's time." He said this with a great sadness in his voice. Today, Winston and Julia would be unpersoned.

The man was, as always, alone in his darkened room. He was watching, always watching as they played his game. They were pawns, all of them, all expendable. It was the most amusing to play with the minds of the newly recovered, as they were so vulnerable. He let out another of his unearthly howls of laughter. Then he resumed with his never-ending watch of the glorious game he had created. He would never become tired of watching as all of their hopes and dreams were crushed one by one.

* * *

In the short time that Syme had been in the bunker, he had learned far more than he had ever learned in all of his years under the Party. There really was a Brotherhood. The thought still amazed him. He'd lived his whole life trying to learn everything there was to know about the world around him, and yet he had failed to notice what was, quite literally, right beneath his feet. He laughed at O'Brien, who foolishly told him that the Brotherhood could never exist. Ha! Even the all-knowing O'Brien didn't know of the rebellion rising right beneath his feet. And for that, he would suffer.

As soon as he'd entered the room, they'd tested him. "What are you prepared to do for the Brotherhood? Are you prepared to give your life? Are you prepare to give your life? To commit acts of sabotage which may cause the deaths of hundreds of innocent people? To betray your country to foreign powers? To cheat, to forge, to blackmail, to corrupt the minds of children, to distribute habit-forming drugs, to encourage prostitution, to disseminate venereal diseases- to do anything which is likely to cause demoralization and weaken the power of the Party?" (Orwell 172) They'd asked him many difficult questions, but a long life in service of the Party had turned him into a truly amoral man. He would do anything to see the ever-watching faces torn from the streets of Oceana. Anything. And soon, he would finally see this dream come to life.

The time for the uprising had finally come. Emmanuel Goldstein had been working decades, since the very start of the Party, to get rid of it. And now, it was time for him to reap the rewards of his hard work. Big Brother had been foolish to think that he could keep the people from uprising forever. What he had considered stupidity in the proles, Goldstein saw for what it truly was: power. Millions of proles, just waiting for his word to fight back. It would be glorious, and Goldstein would watch as the perfect society Big Brother had created came crumbling down. He had been a fool to underestimate these people, for now they had become the faces of the revolution, and nothing he could do would stop them. Goldstein could hardly contain his excitement. He would personally watch as the blood and life finally left his enemy.

Winston awoke to find himself in a dark room. The first thing he saw within the room was the woman. Not as curvaceous as she had once been, but he could recognize the face anywhere. He had to get away. He couldn't be caught with her again. Only then did he remember the blinding light before everything went dark. Though no one had ever seen it happen, rumors went around that the thought police used special guns to unperson someone. Winston had a suspicion that he had been unpersoned- but that couldn't possibly be true, could it? Once you'd been unpersoned, you no longer existed. Winston had never been any good at metaphysics, but he was pretty certain that he was still alive. Everything around him was too real.

While Winston had been lost in his thoughts, she had been staring at him. Suddenly, he heard a loud siren blaring in the distance. Red lights flashed in the room and the hallway outside, and a voice could be heard over the sirens. "Remain calm, my fellows. Soon, the Party shall be destroyed. Then, we will finally have the future we've dreamed of for the past decades. The time for true war has come, and we shall emerge victorious."

Winston didn't know what to think. He recognized the bleating voice, almost like a sheep's. It was Goldstein. The Brotherhood did exist. It shouldn't have been possible, but here he was. He was outraged. _The fools- thinking they can stop Big Brother?! They'll soon see their mistake, but it'll be far too late to save them._

And with that thought, Winston left the room to see their demise.

Julia ran from the room. The Party was going to be destroyed, and there was nothing they could do to stop it. Memories of Room 101 came to her mind. She had betrayed Winston immediately, so they hadn't tortured her nearly as bad as they had done to others. She loved Winston, but her own life came before all others. The memories were already becoming very faint in her mind. She was not concerned at all about being caught. She would never worry about what she did or said again. The Party would be wiped out, and she would finally be free!

It was with a light heart that Julia ran out of the bunker and into the streets of Oceana, gleefully awaiting the demise of Big Brother.

O'Brien was completely stunned when he saw the proles marching out of their quarters and into the city. It wasn't possible; nothing they had ever done had succeeded in motivating them to do anything for the Party! And yet, on they marched, carrying a mismatched array of homemade weapons- knives, pieces of wood with nails driven through them, anything that could do damage was in the hands of the proles. There was no mistaking their intent. They had set out to kill.

As the first wall of proles entered the city, O'Brien noticed something that he hadn't before. Several of the proles carried torches with them. Slowly, they set fire to the buildings they passed. And yet, still they advanced! There was no trace of the stupid, lazy, and fearful proles that they had always seemed to be. They were unafraid, and O'Brien knew that they would be the death of him.

His home was far from where the proles were advancing, so it would be quite some time before they reached him. He could escape, but where would he go? Eventually, the fire would spread through all of what was once known as the United Kingdom. He had no means of traveling to Western Oceana. This was the end of O'Brien, and he knew it. He would finally pay for the crimes he had committed so long ago. So, he turned from the screen and awaited his death.

The man sat calmly in his dark room. He watched as one by one, every person in London burned to their death. Some screamed until they could scream no longer, while others just sat and waited for death to overtake them. But he saw the same thing in all of their eyes: fear. Some tried to escape, but they soon grew tired and died from the smoke inhalation. He had no use of them, so he watched as they burned. Nothing he could have done would save them now.

Before him was a large red button. Long ago, during the time of the great World Wars, he had watched as the scientists created weapons capable of destroying all of the human species. The cowards had never used them, though, and now they were in his possession. One press of the button and they would all be gone. The loyal followers, the thought criminals, the proles, the foreign powers -all of them- gone.

He could easily make new, perfect citizens that would never rebel. His scientists had shown him how to do it. This group had become too troublesome and were no longer amusing to watch. He would start over, and this time, he would get it right. No one, other than he, would remember these times. He would write his own glorious past to feed to the people. They would worship him, and he would have all the power in the world. No more Eastasians or Eurasians, just his perfect Oceanic race.

****Without hesitation, Big Brother pushed the button.


End file.
